


The Rats Of The Interior

by annavale23



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: F/M, Heicho, Imposters, Romance, Thief, unlikely love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-18
Updated: 2015-02-18
Packaged: 2018-03-13 15:37:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3387077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annavale23/pseuds/annavale23
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Levi Ackerman lives by one rule: never help anyone. On the harsh streets of the underground, Levi's only interest is surviving. Then he meets the whirlwind known as Daisy. She's out for revenge against the Military Police, and against his better judgement, he helps her. Even if that means going against the MP's themselves...by joining the MP's . (Levi X OC)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Rats Of The Interior

**Author's Note:**

> This is a Levi X OC romance fan fic. It takes place before the events of the No Regrets Manga, and involves the Military Police. Levi will be aged around 18 in this fic, like with my OC Character.  
> [Cross posted on fanfiction.net under the user name of: mikamisako23]

I gaze up at the sky, shielding my eyes from the bright white yellow sun. My dark grey eyes narrow, and I drop my gaze, my features going dark in annoyance. The sky is bright blue, the sun a blinding yellow: it's too happy, considering I'm not exactly happy right now.

I keep my body weight centred to the ground as I crouch down on my feet, my brown boots making almost no noise on the cobbled floor. I'm hiding behind a crumbling wall, my eyes staring through a crack in this said wall as I watch the con men hand money over to the corrupt bastards known as the Military Police. They then pick up the guns sold to them by the aforementioned bastards, and walk off, whistling happily, pleased with the deal, no doubt.

I scowl.

Those people make me sick, the Military Police, I mean. Not because I think it's unjust to the people here in the Interior, and definitely not because I want to change the world, make it a better place. No, it's because they will shoot me as soon as they see me, but they would just sell guns to the highest bidder without a second thought of how those weapons might be used. My jaw clenches as their faces flash in front of me. _No, I said I wouldn't think about that._ I tell myself firmly, shutting the memories down. _They make me weak, and I can't afford that right now._

The soldiers walk away in the opposite direction their buyers (the con men they were dealing with a few minutes ago), chattering among themselves. I stalk them like a cat, listening into their conversation while keeping my head down low, lest I be seen and have to run.

"...So, I hear that there's been more robberies from that weapons locker down town." One guy, a tallish man with a shadow of a beard on his jawline, says to his companion, a shorter man with large ears. Both men are wearing a light tan coloured jacket, with the Military Police's insignia emblazoned across the back. My own reasonable sized ears perk up at this comment. The weapons locker's been robbed? And it's not by me, I know that. I stopped stealing from the one they're talking about months ago. So who else is challenging the blood sucking pieces of crap in front of me?

"Really?" The other man sounds surprised. "Those rats that live on the streets are disgusting. They'll do just about anything to survive, even steal from the king's personal army!" "I know, it's disgusting." The first man agrees. "We're tripling the guard tonight, just in case he strikes again."

"I bet that filthy bastard gets shot, right in the head." The second man enthuses. "And with the armed guards awaiting them now, it's more likely than ever that it'll happen!"

My eyes narrow further. I despise these pigs who take pleasure in our deaths. And by our, I mean the ones who live in the underground, the true city underneath the official one. Where all the sleazy people go, rich or poor, for anything they could possible want, be it drugs, alcohol or prostitutes. And of course you have us, the street urchins, who are forced to live down there because it's the only place we can go. It's the only place that will accept us.

The men walk off into the distance, and I make the decision not to follow them any further, deciding instead to go back to where I belong. Away from the surface, and back into the shadows of this world, just like the rat I'm considered to be.

* * *

 

"Oh, look, it's Levi!" A tall man hollers from behind the bar. The man, who's hair is styled in a Mohawk style, is the owner of this watering hole, and is as shady as any other bar down here. For a generous price, you could buy yourself a room here - and someone to accompany you if that's what you so wished.

I ignore the looks I'm getting from all sides and sit down at the bar. People here don't like me, mostly because they don't know who I am. All they see is a short guy with grey eyes who doesn't look like he belongs here. Probably because I don't.

"Anything with alcohol, Algal." I say curtly, resting my feet in one of the stool's supports, my elbows digging into the chipped wood of the bar. Do I particularly like alcohol? No, not really. But Algal is unfortunately one of my acquaintances, and in order to keep the information tap running from his end, I have to make an appearance at his bar weekly and order at least one drink. Personally, I despise it here. The place could do with a deep clean, but I'd accept a wipe of the countertop in front of me at the moment. I can almost see the dirt crawling all over the cracked wood. But Algal is one of the best informants on the government stockpiles around, so I tolerate it to get what I need.

"Here you go, Levi." Algal hands me a glass half filled with a dark amber liquid. I inspect the glass carefully, grimacing as I see the water spots decorating it. I pay Algal for the drink before leaving it to go stagnant in front of me as I consider what I heard earlier. Another person stealing from the Military Police...not unusual on it's own, since most people do steal from those bastards, but what puzzles me is how. Last time I tried that weapon's locker, I was nearly captured and I was shot, in the side. Luckily it wasn't fatal, but still. I was fast, faster than the average street kid. So what made this one so special that they deserved an armed guard battalion to be waiting for their eventual return?

"What's bothering you, Levi?" Algal's voice snaps me out of my thoughts. I blink at him, and then narrow my already slanted eyes. "I don't pay you for the chatter, Algal." I point out, crossing my arms down on the counter. "Just the information."

However, he doesn't back up, instead Algal simply waits for me to speak. He's not one to take a hint that easily. My eyebrows knit together in annoyance as the man watches me, waiting for me to break. Unfortunately for him, he still hasn't learnt that I do not crack that easily. So instead of spilling my guts out to him, I just sit there quite calmly and stare at him. Algal's dark blue eyes try and match mine for their fierceness, but he's loosing before he's even begun. I could win tournaments for my staring.

"Fine, I won't ask." He sighs in defeat finally. "But Levi, I would be careful." Algal's tone drops to a low whisper, so only I can hear it. I pretend to be interested in the contents of my glass as Algal whispers the information I paid for to me. "The Military Police are looking for someone. A street kid, like you. Only they're known for breaking into things and waiting until the last moment before running. As if they enjoy the moment just before the chase. And they don't know what they look like, so they're conducting random searches. I'd hide your stash well, my friend. Or you could end up dead." Algal finishes. "And that'll be a sad day, Levi Ackerman. A very sad day."

"Thanks for the drink." I say almost carelessly, ignoring Algal's clear concern for my welfare, as I get to my feet, pushing the creaky wooden stool back with one foot as I do so. It screeches in protest against the wooden floor, prompting everyone to glance at me I assume without turning my head to look. I walk away from the counter, tucking my hands into my trouser pockets, whistling a low tune under my breath, even though I'm yet to even try my drink.

But I can't let alcohol inhibit my actions right now. I have a stash to hide.

* * *

 

I swallow as I creep down a back alley, my brown boots soundless against the stone. The sky has darkened to a raspberry pink, the clouds like a dusting of white against the dark pink canvas of the sky. My stash is hidden in an old underground bunker, whish you can only get to through a hatch in the ground. Most people assume it's a hatch for garbage, and most of the time I find myself clearing old waste out.

It's better to go and secure my stash at evening time since the robber that the Military Police are so concerned about will strike at night, if they value their hide. But if what Algal said is true, they might strike earlier, like now in the evening. Yet I doubt that. No one could be _that_ stupid.

The cost for stealing Military Police possessions is jail time, and then a likely execution. Neither of these options seem like something I'd want to do, especially since the cell's are probably filthy. And anyway, if the Military Police saw what I have stashed away from them...they'd probably shoot me right there and then. And I don't want to die, so I better hope that they don't catch me, or my stash.

I stop by the wooden hatch, noticing that the wood is cracking. _Maybe I should do something about that._ I muse to myself. _Winter's coming, and it wouldn't be good if my stash was compromised because I couldn't be bothered to fix a few damn cracks in the wood._ I swallow, looking around in case anyone's around. I'm about to kneel down to open it when I'm, quite suddenly, knocked flat onto my back.

I blink, looking up to see a girl splayed out on top of me. Obviously she was running down this alley, but why? She scrambles to her feet, a huge sack slung over her shoulder, her bright amber gold eyes sparkling mischievously. I stare up at her, supporting my body on my hands. The sun is positioned directly behind her, making her reddish hair shine prettily.

"Sorry, got to go!" She yells at me, glancing over her shoulder as if she's being persecuted. Realisation dawns on me as I connect the pieces: street attire, a sack over one shoulder, the nervous glances... _This_ is the robber that's got everyone so worried.

But...she's a _girl_?

Quickly, I get to my feet, and push the hatch open. The girl gives me a very weird look, as if questioning my sanity. To be honest, she's not the only one wondering what the hell I'm doing. "Get in." I tell her, my eyes darting around as we hear the footsteps that indicate the Military Police are coming.

"She went down here!" One of the men yells loudly. The men start to run towards the alley we're in. "Get in!" I say urgently. What the hell am I doing? It's every man for himself (or apparently _her_ self) out here! Especially after what happened last time I tried to help someone. But I can't stop myself. I can't shut myself up. All I know is that somehow I can't leave this girl to the bastards hunting her. And I don't know why. Any other day, I wouldn't of hesitated to leave her to the wolves. But today...

"I don't even know you, shorty." She shakes her head in disbelief, getting ready to run again. "Why would I trust you? For all I know, you're about to sell me out!"

But before she can run away, my arm whips out at lightning speed and my fingers curl tightly around her wrist. The girl barely has any time to reach before I've pulled her backwards, chucking her into the dark hole that was once covered by the wooden hatch. Then, hearing the Military Police approach, I jump in after her, slamming the hatch door shut as I do so, plunging us into darkness.


End file.
